What’s Your Type?

The following story makes references to drugs and alcohol use.

     It was the shiver that made her eyes focus on the woman. It was just before midnight, and the drinks had been flowing for hours. The harsh stench of alcohol permeated the room. Naomi was past the line of being buzzed. The warmth was coursing through her body. The majority of the party had moved into the garage, which doubled as a smoking area, and the few stragglers who remained in the living room were caught in circling stories about other nights of intense drinking. She was hard for anyone to miss, and she wasn't someone you would want to miss. Yet it seemed like Naomi's eyes were the only ones to wander over her body. 

     The clink of mini bottles made her stomach flip, and her heart wanted to burst with this sudden sense of adventure that overwhelmed her. The liquid dripped down the glass, leaving soft pink streaks. Engraved on the side of each vial was a label with one or two letters. Naomi let the bottles roll in her palms; the slight weight comforted her. 

     "What's this?" She slurred. The Crown in her cup was finally starting to hit, and if she crossed her legs any tighter, it would have the opposite effect of holding her bladder. The room swayed with her as she tried to focus on the woman's words, toned down by the pitter-patter of clear liquor dripping onto the floor. 

     The woman's hazel eyes looked past Naomi's surface and searched for depth in her eyes. Naomi was sure it didn't exist, at least not to the extent the woman sought. The air between them was thick with marijuana and cinnamon, but the scent of peaches from the woman was hard to miss. She lifted her hand to cup Naomi's face, tangled her fingers into Naomi's hair, and gazed into her earth-toned eyes. She was alluring, her shoulder-length curls, her silk dress clinging to her cleavage, her soft facial features, and her hourglass figure that fit perfectly with the slight weight she had to her. She inched forward and gently pulled Naomi's head to the side before running her tongue up her neck and nipping at her ear lobe. 

     No, not the ear lobe! Arrrghhh! 

     "They are called dew drops. They are made from the native plants in my home country. Just take a drop and have the experience of a lifetime. I must go, but I'm sure to  see you again soon.  Have fun…Naomi, right?" She turned to leave with deep laughter," Oh, and those letters on the side do matter." The woman sauntered away, disappearing physically through the remaining crowd and out of Naomi's eyesight.

      Naomi looked at the bottles in her hand and rolled them to find the inscription on each one. Each bottle had a different label reading: A, B, AB, O. She knew immediately there had to be a correlation between blood type and the substance. Her mind raced with questions, although Naomi wasn't in the right headspace to come up with a logical and reasonable answer. She just felt extra daring, her encounter with the woman still fresh in her mind and between her legs. The soft smell of peaches lingered around the bottles, and anticipation and curiosity poured over her. However,  she knew that the dumbest thing she could do was to keep and taste the contents in the bottles. 

     Just try it. No! Let's find someone else to try it. No, that's shitty. I could find someone to try it with me. I can feel it in my gut, this has to be shared. No, what am I saying? This is crazy! But you only live once, and when will I have the opportunity after grad school? Just a drop. No! Yes. No!Yes! Damn, Coochie is a powerful thing that can make both men and women do just the stupidest thing. That's a yes. Fuck it. 

      She reached the garage door, hoping her friends had arrived.  The stench of burning bud seeped through the walls as she twirled around, trying to get around people. Many of the faces she recognized from college. The boy from her chemistry class who jumped off the roof at the frat party last week. The girl who always wore the most stylish outfits to our bio lab, who is also rumored to be sleeping with the class professor. A teaching assistant chugging down cans of Miller's like his entire scholarship depended on it. Most of the faces she recognized but couldn't recall a name.

She could hear the burst of laughter from across the room and found comfort in the open-mouth smiles in front of her. There they were, all still together, laughing and ready to cause trouble in the city. It was clear to her that her friends were in no better position than she was. 

     Don't ask them. Find some rando, like the guy from the roof. He seems down for the cause.

      She turned her head to see the roof boy slouched over the arm of a tattered chair, barely moving, and immediately shook her head. Fuck.

      "Hey, lovelies, it's been a while," she smirked as she slid next to people she had grown up with in a small town kind of way.

        "Oh, look who decided to grace us with her presence. When did you get here?" Maribelle asked, entwining their arms together. Her eyes hung low, and her speech was slow and deliberate, as if she was putting all her energy into the words coming out of her mouth. Everything sounded like grunts and moans. Maribelle was right beside her, yet she only heard every other word. 

       "I got here when…" She cocked her head as if to shake the thought into fruition. She couldn't remember when she arrived. She didn't remember anything before seeing the woman. She didn't remember waking up, eating lunch, or driving to this party. It's just the sexual tension with the woman. 

This is why we say no to drugs! Sometimes. This is right, right? It feels right. But not…why?

       "That's beside the point. I've acquired some very interesting hoodlum activities, and I wanted to know if you guys would maybe try them with me." She pulled her hands out of her jacket pocket and produced the four little bottles she had been given. 

"What's this, uppers or downers"? Maribelle asked, taking a bottle in her hand. She inspected the bottle, taking care to run her thumb over one particular spot.

       "It's called Dew Drops. I'm not exactly sure if it will take us up or down, but this woman I was talking to gave them to me. She said a little goes a long way and that we will see things we will never forget. But I don't wanna try it by myself." Naomi softened her gaze and let her smile turn into a smirk. "Come on, we graduate in less than six months. Let's have a little fun."

        "Same girl from the other day"? Clint chimed in, his tall stature looming above Naomi. It was hard to tell who was swaying harder at the moment, but when they fell into sync, everything fell back together. 

        "No, this was a different woman. I met her here, actually". Naomi said. 

       "Oh, is she from school? What's her name, we might know her?" Naomi's finger twisted in her locs as she took another sip of Crown. 

        "Now that you mention it, I'm not sure. You know, I remember faces. No Names," Naomi said, softly shrugging. 

          "I'm in," Clint responded, taking another brutal hit of the joint and passing it to Naomi. 

        "Sure, why not? Yea! Let's drink some liquid from mini bottles given to our friend by some random girl whose name she can't remember." Maribelle retorted with a bite of sarcasm in her words. 

        "How do we know which one to take?" Clint observed the bottle again, holding it close to his eye. Naomi took the bottle from his hand and took a deep inhale of the sweetness.

"I think it's based on your blood type." Naomi popped open the vile with the Label "O" on it. She dabbled a bit on her pinky and licked the droplet into her mouth. 

        "Wait, dumbass, think this through. Do you even know your blood type "? Maribelle's face took on a hogue of pink, her lips twitching as Clint followed Naomi's lead. 

 "I do," Naomi said. 

       "I don't, but O is pretty universal, so that should be okay," Clint said before sucking the juice off his finger. ”To science"! 

     You study marketing, Clint. You failed bio twice.

       The juice was thick, and she realized that  the sweet scent was misleading as her lips puckered . Naomi could feel something almost immediately. It was like her whole body suffered from Pins and needles. A warmth more intense than what she felt earlier forced through her body. Panic would have ensued if the warmth hadn't disappeared as quickly as it came. 

      “ I was going to ask questions, but I was a bit distracted and partly crossed, and there was music and peaches. In the moment, everything seemed good," Naomi stumbled over her words. 

     "Oh, I like this. I feel bubbly," Clint grinned.

      Naomi's voice softened. "You don't have to try it. Let's see how it goes with us first and go from there." The warmth started to creep back up her body. She began appreciating every faded color, misplaced crack, and giant water heater in the corner. Everything felt right; everything was exactly where it needed to be. Naomi began to giggle. 

"Oh god, I can see it's hitting already." Maribelle wrapped her arm around Clint's and walked them inside. They entered the living room and were smacked with the stench of skunk and perfume. People filled this area, loudly chatting, laughter bursting above their heads. The moment was magical in its own pre-graduate party way. 

       Her world was quiet and at peace. All the murmurs and giggles fell upon deaf ears, and she relished. Naomi sat on the beige cushion, taking in the scene, letting her mind wander the universe, watching the walls breathe, the ceiling a river of white specks flowing to an unknown spot. She hadn't even noticed that two of her vials had been poached. Naomi looked at her watch and saw an additional two hours had passed. She sat up, trying to force even a hint of sobriety, and began to scan the room. Her biggest concern was someone drinking the whole thing, unaware of what it was since even  she didn't know what it was. She scooted to the end of the couch and propelled her body to stand, but her body felt twenty times heavier. 

     "Hey! I've been looking for you," Clint shouted as he tripped over his feet, the liquid in his cup sloshing out with every step. 

      "Hey, uh, did I give you those vials?" She questioned, her body instantly relaxing as she instinctively melted into the comfort of seeing her friend.

       "Oh, Yes. Uh, okay, hear me out. I was having such a phenomenal time that some people asked questions, and interest was piqued. It has been shared. They are in the kitchen." Clint threw his body next to Naomi on the couch, his chest rising and falling in perfect time with the beat of the music.

      "Shit, where is Maribelle? She let you do that? How many of us actually know our blood type! How irresponsible!"Naomi chimed, trying to put the base back into her voice. 

     I'm happy she's not around to hear me call her that because who am I to talk about being a responsible adult? 

     She had faith in her best friend and knew Maribelle wouldn't have let him do that if she didn't think it was okay. "She is…damn, I don't know. She took some of those drops a little while after us; you know how she gets when her pride is tested, but be cool. Most people just took O and called it a day." Clint yelled a lot louder than Naomi felt was necessary. 

     "So, how do we get home?" Naomi tried to hold her snorts down, but everything seemed hilarious. Every word she spoke sounded foreign as if her native language had abandoned her hearing. Joy was moving through Naomi and didn't want it to stop. She simply asked the question because it seemed like the adult thing to do. 

     "She called Oscar." he pointed a finger to the corner farthest from them, and there slept Oscar. "Jesus, did he take some, too?" The panic slipped into her high, but quickly faded. 

      “Maybe. Oscar could just be tired, though from how close to empty those bottles are, he most likely did." Clint's eyes drifted close, his head softly landing on her shoulder. 

"Don't sleep yet. We need help…. MARIBELLE” Naomi hollered. After ten minutes of waiting without a response, Naomi knew it was time to get up and search. 

     Okay, I'll find her after I take a piss. I'm surprised I've ignored it for so long.

      She pulled out her phone, which had died sometime during the party. Naomi slowly inched off the couch, taking her sweet time with each movement. It was unbearable how heavy her body was feeling. Nevertheless, she lifted herself off the sofa and crept to the bathroom. She closed the door, hit the light, and jumped at the person in the mirror. Her eyes were low and puffy as if she were crying oceans. Her chestnut features looked pale and fragile in the lighting. She propped herself against the sink, using every bit of her strength to stay upright. She glanced at the mirror, and then it all hit her. She couldn't stop gravity from yanking her to the floor. The rising beat in her ears roared.

    Alright. I gotta get up. I can't be seen like this. No, MARIBELLE can't find her like this. She is going to make sure I can never swallow anything again. 

     She winced.

      Naomi couldn't move. All the alcohol, all the drugs, the music, the skunky smell, the bright light and deepening colors overwhelmed her.  She kept her breath calm as her body lay there on the cold, sticky floor that smelt of earth and piss. Her eyes shouted for anyone to stumble through the door to help her. Her stomach kept time with her heart, but neither was fast enough to keep up with her thoughts. 

     Oh my God, I'm gonna die. This is it. I'm gonna see hell. Maybe I should pray? No, don't pray. Why? Because look around. Okay. No, I should pray. Hypocrite. It's more of a force of habit. Oh fuck that's not important, help! Anyone. Please fucking help me or even just find me and make a TikTok about it, I don't care, someone help! You would care. Not if it meant saving my life. You would still care. Fuck why can't people just be kind? What happened to courtesy? Ahh focus! Think! Move! PUSH PAST YOUR LIMIT! This isn't an anime! I don't know what to do. Wait, it's just drugs, and drugs wear off eventually! Someone WILL find me and probably a shit ton of other people on the other side of the stupid fucking door that WON'T OPEN ALREADY and will get help. I'll serve life in jail, and I'll write letters and pleas for other inmates to be protected! Let's breathe. In four. Out four. In four. Out four. We got this queen. Just be patient; someone will come, and everything will be fine.

       She fought the sting in her eyes and focused solely on making any centimeter of movement to make an audible noise that would penetrate all the noise on the other side. Then, she felt the warmth slip up her shirt and down her pants. Her eyes looked to the toilet in front of her, and the wall she had built came crumbling down. 

     Oh God, just let me die!

       The sudden commotion on the other side of the door made her heart stop.  Shouts faintly passed the door, but these shouts were crisp and direct. Their words are heavy and loaded with fear. Then came the shrieks and screams. The room shook with the heavy stomps, and all she heard was terror and destruction. Shattering glass, the abrupt stop of melodies, the clamoring of several mid-20-year-olds engrossed in terror. All the words are jumbled because of the various voices layered over the cries of others through a wooden door. 

     Oh, NOW he hears a fucking prayer!

       She lay on the floor, grateful her face landed on the fuchsia carpet beneath the toilet seat, but she was even more thankful when the door knob shook, and in came some who promptly slammed the door shut.  "Naomi! Maribelle exclaimed, rolling Naomi on her back. Naomi's eyes screamed as she took in the pitch-black eyes and snarled teeth looming over her, and the craving for peaches was all she could think about. 

To be continued.